


Genderswap Prompts

by Pigzxo



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: F/F, Fem!Mickey, Gender or Sex Swap, fem!ian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:58:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5449229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pigzxo/pseuds/Pigzxo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of genderswap prompts that I get on my tumblr (wellimhavinga3outof10day)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two Week Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mickey gets her nipple pierced b/c she thought Ian would think it was hot but during aftercare she just gets grumpy b/c it hurts so much and its sensitive so she barely lets Ian touch her and after weeks of sexual tension they finally bang and Ian is like wtf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW

“Come on, you said—”

            “I don’t care what I said,” Mickey snapped. She crossed her arms tightly across her university sweatshirt, careful not to touch her breasts. “I’m not letting you see it.”

            Ian reached out for her again and Mickey stepped back. With a sigh, Ian flopped back onto the bed, her red curls bouncing with the springs. “You got it for me,” she said. “It seems only fair that I should be able to see it.”

            Mickey shrugged. The sweatshirt was hot against her skin, but it was the only thing she could wear that wouldn’t pinch at her piercing. But that meant her legs were bare to protect her from overheating in the summer sun. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Ian couldn’t take her eyes off of her.

            “Please?” Ian said, dragging out the vowels. She reached out and grabbed the bottom hem of Mickey’s hoodie, pulling her closer. “I just want to see it.”

            Mickey looked down at her girlfriend, radiant in the morning light, and ran her hand through fiery curls. “If I show you,” Mickey said, “You can’t touch it.”

            Ian raised her hands in surrender, the edge of a smile curling on her lips. Mickey watched her for a moment, those green eyes imploring, and then sighed. Very carefully, she pulled her arms into the main part of the sweater and lifted it over her head. She cursed as the nipple ring caught in the fabric, struggled through the pain, and threw the hoodie to the side. “That fucking hurt,” she said.

            But Ian was paying no attention to her pain. Her eyes were fixed on the nipple ring, a circle of silver metal with a single peridot on it. Mickey snapped her fingers. “Hey,” she said. “I’m up here.”

            Ian’s eyes moved lazily up the length of her body. Her hands were still raised, but lowering slightly. “Let me lick it,” she said, voice soft, husky even.

            “You’re disgusting.”

            Ian grabbed Mickey’s hips and pulled her closer, spreading her legs so that Mickey was standing between them. Her smile when she looked up was sultry. “Come on, Mick,” she said, purring. “Let me lick it.”

            “Fuck you,” Mickey snapped. She stepped back, batted Ian’s hands away.

            “Mick—”

            “Don’t fucking touch me.” Mickey walked from the room after snatching her hoodie from the floor. She could hear Ian calling after her, but she didn’t care. She pulled the hoodie back over her head, careful not to irritate the ring again, worsen the dull ache in her breast, and flopped down on the couch to watch a movie. And if Ian tried to join her, well, she’d have hell to pay.

 

“Please let me help,” Ian said.

            “I don’t trust you,” Mickey replied. She stared at the cup of cooling salt water, aware that Ian was just behind her, leaning against the doorway. She wrapped her hoodie tighter around herself.

            “Come on,” Ian said. “You’re never gonna be able to balance it on your own.”

            Mickey smirked, shot her a look over her shoulder. “And you’re gonna be fucking fantastic at it?”

            “I’m willing to try.”

            Ian took a step closer and Mickey held out her hand, pointing accusingly at her girlfriend. “Do not touch me,” she said. “I mean it.”

            Ian stopped in the middle of the kitchen and crossed her arms. “Not gonna touch you,” she said. “Okay, just... would you let me help? What the fuck do you know about not getting shit infected anyways?”

            “I know plenty.”

            “The hundred or so juvie tattoos you have beg to differ,” Ian snapped. She stepped closer, keeping her hands to herself, and stared down at the cup of salt water. She hovered her palm over it to test the temperature. “Should be fine.”

            “It’s only been a minute.”

            “So? This house is fucking freezing.”

            “This house is a goddamn sauna.”

            Ian rolled her eyes. “Well, maybe if you weren’t bundled up—”

            “Maybe if you ever wore some fucking clothes,” Mickey snapped. She couldn’t help but let her eyes drop on the words, Ian’s curves obvious beneath the thin gray tank top she wore stretched down to her knees. Mickey swallowed and looked back at the cup. “I’m not putting boiling fucking water on my nipple because you’re impatient.”

            Ian sighed and hopped up onto the counter, swinging her legs. Mickey could feel her eyes on her, but she refused to look at her. The skin around her nipple itched and pinched, just shifting in her sweater made the ring catch and rub. Technically she was supposed to be able to wear a loose bra but whoever the fuck had come up with that rule clearly had never actually gotten their nipple fucking pierced. She’d walk around shirtless if she wasn’t worried about Mandy bringing some drunken loser home with her in the middle of the night.

            Four minutes later, she decided the solution was ready, and brought it back with her to the bedroom. Ian tried to follow her in but she shut the door in her face. “You’re gonna spill it!” Ian called. Mickey ignored her, pulled off her hoodie, and laid back on the bed, balancing the water carefully. She pressed the cup below her nipple and then tipped it over fast, cursing at the cold of the water.

            “Did you spill it?” Ian asked.

            “Fuck you,” Mickey said.

            “Let me in.”

            “Nope. Ten to fifteen minutes before it comes off, Ian.” Mickey closed her eyes and listened to her girlfriend sigh against the door. A second later, footsteps padded away and Mickey relaxed into the silence, no longer uncomfortable.

 

Mickey showered with the curtain and the bathroom door open. She’d been doing it for years, ever since Mandy had hit puberty, to protect her. By now it was more habit than anything else and she barely realized she was doing it. That is until Ian’s grumbly, sleepy voice said, “Is that fucking necessary?”

            Mickey looked out at her through the water. She had her hand cupped under her breast, cleaning the crust out of her nipple piercing. “If you don’t want it to get infected, yeah,” Mickey said. She dropped her hand and water splashed onto the porcelain. Ian’s eyes were on her skin, on the piercing, on the curving roses and skulls that covered the left side of her rib cage and curled under her collarbone. Mickey flicked water at her.

            “Am I allowed to touch you yet?” Ian asked.

            “Nope.”

            “It’s been a week.”

            “Boo hoo.”

            Ian sighed. “Come on, I won’t even touch your boobs. Just let me eat you out.”

            Mickey stepped under the stream of the shower, tossed her head back. Her short hair plastered against her skull and she made a sound like she was thinking about it. “Don’t think so,” she said and stepped out onto the tiles. She reached out a hand towards Ian. “Towel.”

            “You’re not supposed to use a towel,” Ian said.

            “Just give me a fucking towel.”

            “Thought you didn’t want it to get infected.” Ian stepped back.

            “Just hand me a fucking towel.”

            Ian clicked her tongue. “I’m not supposed to touch you.” She raised her hands in a casual surrender and shrugged. “Sorry.”

            “Ian, for the love of fucking god!” Mickey said. She grumbled a few more curses and stepped out into the bedroom sopping wet, looking through the masses of clothes on the floor for a towel. When she finally found one, she rubbed it through her hair and caught Ian staring at her from the edge of the bed. “You just bought yourself another fucking week.”

            Ian shrugged, a smirk on her pink lips.

 

The second week had been a bad idea, but Mickey wasn’t one to back down from a threat. No matter how far off the bed her girlfriend insisted on sleeping because she “wasn’t allowed to touch her” or how much Ian begged just to let her touch her lower half, Mickey wouldn’t budge. She ignored Ian’s pleas, her promises, even somehow got through Ian whispering in her ear that she’d handcuff herself to the bed and let Mickey have her way with her.

            But she made it, somehow, probably because the dull throbbing pain in her nipple made her murderous instead of horny. More likely because she couldn’t continuously convince Kev to delay her shift until she could wear a bra again and had to tie a bathing suit top loosely under her black shirt to go into the bar.

            Exactly two weeks after she got her nipple pierced she came home from the bar, tossed off her shirt and said, “Okay, let’s do this.”

            Ian looked up from her spot on the bed, her hair tied in a tight bun on top of her head. She was dressed for once in cotton pajamas, white and green ones with moose on them. Her math textbook was spread over her lap, a pencil in her mouth. But if she had any interest in the problem at all, it was gone when she looked up at her girlfriend.

            “I’m allowed to touch you again?” Ian asked.

            “Yup,” Mickey said. She bounced onto the end of the bed, ran her hands up Ian’s bare legs. Her fingers caught in the bottom of Ian’s shorts, high up on her thighs, but just short of her goal. “Or are you busy?”

            “Nope,” Ian said. She pushed the textbook off her lap and it fell with a bang. She cupped Mickey’s chin in her hand and brought her up to her lips, rough kisses dissolving shortly and without much effort. “Fuck, you taste good.”

            Mickey moved up, her hands under Ian’s tank top, straddled her waist. She pulled Ian’s hair from its bun, soft red curls falling over her girlfriend’s shoulders. Dipping into a longer kiss, she felt the pull of Ian’s lip gloss, sticky and lemonade sweet.

            Ian pushed her back, trailed her lips down Mickey’s neck. She kissed across her collarbone, her hands spreading across Mickey’s skin. She grasped the breast without the nipple ring, rubbed her hand across the skin as her lips dipped towards the other breast. Flicking her tongue through the ring, she played with Mickey’s nipple until she groaned.

            Then Ian pushed Mickey back on the bed, crawled on top of her. Her hair hung in fiery curtains around their faces, Ian surprisingly good at keeping her breath steady, keeping space between their lips. She licked off the remainder of her lip gloss and kissed a line down Mickey’s neck. Her lips trailed all the way down Mickey’s skin, hit the waistband of her jeans shorts. With a small tug, she got the shorts off her hips and her underwear down too, pulled the fabric to her knees. Warm lips touched the insides of Mickey’s thighs, slow.

            “Fuck,” Mickey whispered. She felt Ian smile against her thighs, teeth scraped her skin. “Be fucking gentle.”

            That made Ian laugh, the press of her cold nose against Mickey’s skin, short exhales playing across her thighs. Ian pulled Mickey’s shorts off the rest of the way and then pushed her thighs further apart. She wiggled backwards, settled down on her stomach, and pressed hard kisses up Mickey’s thighs.

            Her fingers got tighter on Ian’s skin, crept closer to her ass. She felt nails at the bottom of her ass and gasped, Ian’s lips in the crook of her thighs, chaste kisses against dark hairs. Ian grabbed her ass, forced her hips into the air. Mickey failed to breath, the gentle curve of her girlfriend’s tongue along her lower lips. She reached down to brush her hands through the curls of Ian’s hair and her girlfriend moaned in pleasure against her.

            Ian’s kisses, soft and hard then soft again, made Mickey’s body weak. When she looked down, Ian’s green eyes were trained on her, a smile on her lips as her tongue worked. Shivers ran through Mickey’s body as Ian finally got to her clit, her tongue running smooth circles against the raised skin. A small whimper left Mickey’s lips, the sound amplifying when Ian kissed and sucked momentarily. Mickey’s lips opened around a word she didn’t know and she forced herself to breathe, eyes to the ceiling, too hard to watch Ian watching her.

            Her breath became shallow and she gripped Ian’s hair harder. Ian’s thumb rubbed circles in her ass, the same direction as her tongue, every part of Mickey tingling. How she had waited two weeks, nipple ring or not, she had no fucking clue. She could feel the excitement of her body ebbing, all of her hot and sparking, but her body relaxing. Ian’s hands scraped down the backs of her thighs and she imagined the marks there, long red lines. For the first time in a while, she looked down to meet Ian’s eyes and shook her head softly.

            Ian rubbed her fingers against the outside of her thighs, a calming touch. She sucked once more, one more long lick, then kissed back down the length of Mickey’s thighs. Hair falling backwards, a red waterfall, she sat up on her knees with a smile, her lips red and moist. Mickey sat up to meet her, her body cold, her breath hard and uneven. She took her girlfriend’s face in her hands and kissed her once.

            “You’re amazing,” Mickey whispered.

            Ian laughed. “It’s all you, Mick.” She kissed her again, harder, but her strength gave out on her after a second. She flopped back into the pillows, her eyes fluttering closed. “Give me back my textbook.”

            Mickey snorted. “You’re gonna do math with your eyes closed?”

            “The answer’s three,” Ian said. “I just gotta write it down.”

            Mickey shook her head, but picked the textbook up off the floor. With a cursory glance over the question, she said, “You’re wrong,” and dropped the book into Ian’s lap.

            Ian whimpered pathetically. “You do it?”

            Mickey sighed and moved to sit beside Ian on the bed. She slid the textbook over so that half of it was over Ian’s knee and half of it was over hers. Tapping the pen against the page, she waited until Ian’s eyes opened, and then said, “You need to follow the order of operations.”

            Ian wrinkled her nose. Then her eyes flicked down the length of her girlfriend’s naked body and she said, “I’m not gonna be able to take you seriously like that.”

            “Too bad. Order of operations.” Mickey tapped the book again.

            “Order of operations,” Ian grumbled in what passed for her mocking voice. The two of them stared down at the textbook for a long time before Ian said, “I’m still going with three.” She pushed the book off her lap and kissed her girlfriend again.


	2. Holding Cells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mickey going to jail/holding cell for something stupid and unintentional (defending Debbie or herself against gross pervs) & ian having to console her afterwards bc jail/holding cells are worse than juvie (post-s5 but no breakup?)

Mickey was shaking when she walked out of the holding cell. She still managed to give the officer who let her out a dirty look, to cross her arms tight across her chest and yell something nasty at the tattooed guys still sitting inside. The officer took her by the arm and dragged her to the front desk. If his grip loosened a bit when he had a hold of her, she tried not to think it was because he could feel how scared she was.

            Ian stood at the front desk, in military dress. Mickey almost laughed, stopped herself last minute with a cough. “And another thing,” Ian said as she approached, “it’s uncalled for to keep a girl _overnight_ because she fucking stood up for herself!”

            “She’s released now, isn’t she?” the desk officer said.

            Ian opened her mouth to argue more but Mickey grabbed her arm, squeezed. Ian wrapped her arms around her immediately, a tight hug that took Mickey’s breath away, broke whatever hold she had over her emotions. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she instead lost all control and ended up sobbing into the shoulder of her girlfriend’s jacket.

            “Hey, hey,” Ian said soothingly. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

            “Shit,” Mickey said. She struggled out of Ian’s bruising grip and wiped at her eyes. “Get me a drink or something. Or a bag of coke.”

            Ian winced. “We’re still in the station.”

            Mickey shrugged. “Joke.”

            Ian grabbed Mickey’s hands and squeezed. She had this desperate need to touch Mickey after she went away, whether it was for twelve hours or twelve weeks. And Mickey usually didn’t mind, relished the feeling of gentle human contact after spending time in a jail cell, but today was different. Today she had punched a guy for asking Debbie to spread his legs for him and then ended up in a holding cell with a bunch of meninist douche faces who whispered rape threats in her ears. So she pulled away, a little too fast, and felt pain at the flash of guilt in Ian’s eyes.

            The two walked out of the station side by side, Ian careful to keep a foot of space between them. Mickey was glad for it, but she also felt the distance with every step, the odd emptiness that not touching Ian left her with. Her skin crawled, itched.

            “You okay?” Ian asked once they were a couple of blocks away.

            Mickey met her gaze, green eyes dull and worried. She shrugged. “Asshole deserved it.”

            “Yeah, but I meant...” Ian trailed off, screwed up her face. With a deep breath, she looked up at the too blue sky, followed a cloud until it disappeared behind a building. “You. How are you?”

            “Fine.”

            “It wasn’t... bad?”

            Mickey laughed, short and bitter. “It’s always bad.”

            Ian risked a step towards her. Their hips knocked together and Mickey pulled slightly closer, their arms brushing as they walked. With a slight smile, an expression she couldn’t get rid of, Mickey said, “There were some dick bags. This huge lesbian who wanted to make me her bitch. A kid two years younger than me. Basically the usual crowd. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

            “Mick.”

            “What do you want me to say?” Mickey snapped, immediately too harsh. She turned on Ian, stepped backwards onto a crack on the sidewalk. The heel of her boot caught, she stumbled, and she felt her whole body shake with the mistake. Ian grasped her shoulder, long fingers tight on her skin, hard enough to leave bruises. She leaned into Ian’s steady grasp, met her eyes. “There’s nothing to say.”

            Ian nodded. “Let’s get you into the shower. I’ll make you some soup.”

            Mickey kissed her. “I’d prefer if you’d join me in the shower.”

            A slight smile sparked in Ian’s eyes, but it was sad. Some part of her, and Mickey didn’t know what part and she didn’t know when she’d allowed Ian close enough to know her this well, knew that Mickey wasn’t ready for her to touch her quite so thoroughly yet. Ian rubbed her hand down Mickey’s arm, turned her back around, and pecked her on the temple. “Everything’s going to be okay,” she whispered.


	3. Listen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Lip has had a weird crush on Mickey for ages and even after Gallavich becomes a thing, he's still always blatantly hitting on Mickey and finally Ian is like wth bro seriously and gets all possessive.

Ian woke up in a good mood. Her girlfriend had finally called herself her girlfriend last night after months of on-and-off fucking. It was still a secret. Mickey Milkovich wasn’t exactly the type of girl to come out in high school and it wasn’t exactly safe for Ian to come out either, but at least now Mickey had admitted it was _something_.

            Ian jumped the last step into the kitchen and joined Fiona behind the counter flinging out pancakes to the kids. Debbie was complaining about the same homework assignment she’d been complaining about for weeks and Carl was silently trying to kill a Barbie on a hot plate. Lip was still asleep and Liam sat happily eating Cheerios in his high chair.

            Ian grabbed a plate of pancakes for herself and sat down at the breakfast table just as Lip made his way downstairs. He ruffled Ian’s hair as he went past, making a mess of her fire red curls, and grabbed a pancake off Carl’s plate.

            “Hey!” Carl said.

            “Losers weepers,” Lip said.

            “There’s plenty to go around,” Fiona said, “so no fighting.” She gave Lip a plate, then smacked him across the head. “You’re gonna be late if you keep sleeping in like this.”

            “Come on, Ian wouldn’t leave without me. She can’t exactly show up to walk the Milkoviches to school herself,” Lip said.

            Ian’s blood ran cold as she looked up at her brother.

            He winked. “Not that I can blame her. Mickey? Fuck. That girl’s got a body on her and the tattoos to show she ain’t easy to tame in bed.”

            “Fuck off,” Ian said, perhaps a little too sharply.

            Lip ignored her. “And if you show up at the right time, she never puts clothes on. And her breasts—”

            “Stop being a pig,” Ian said.

            Lip flipped her off. “Like you’re not always thinking the same thing.”

            “I keep it to myself,” Ian said. “Plus, aren’t you dating her sister?”

            Lip shrugged. “I take what I can get. Doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t trade if Mickey made an offer.”

            “Like she would,” Ian muttered.

            “What’s that?” Lip said. He leaned forward. “You know something about the older girl’s tastes that I don’t?”

            Ian forced a dry smirk onto her face. “Only that she thinks you’re a disgusting pig. And, oh my god, she’d be right!” Ian got up from the table before she could be bothered to punch her brother in the face and made for the back door.

            Lip was right on her heels as she turned onto the sidewalk. “What’s your damage? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed, much?”

            “Just don’t fucking talk to me.”

            “Ah, that time of month.”

            “Yeah, the time of month where I want to kill you,” Ian said. She made a point of looking away from him, counting the houses on the other side of the street until they reached the Milkoviches’ place. Then she stopped with her arms crossed and waited for Lip to make the trek up to the front door.

            Mandy opened the door and grabbed him in a big hug. Then she called over her shoulder for her sister and made her way down the steps hand in hand with Lip. A spark of jealousy ran through Ian. She wished she could do the same with Mickey – just grab her hand and feel safe and loved all the way to school.

            Then Mickey came to the door. And Ian forgot all thoughts of holding her girlfriend’s hand. Framed in the doorway, Mickey looked every bit like one of her brothers. Short hair, cut-off plaid shirt, jean shorts ripped unevenly across her thighs. Her breasts jiggled as she made her way down the stairs – no doubt not wearing a bra – and she swung her black backpack over one shoulder. From head to toe warm tattoos flowed across her skin, showing roses and skulls and balls of flame all connected by black vines.

             “Move, assholes,” Mickey said, and she stalked ahead of the group.

            Ian barely concealed the broad smile on her face before Lip looked back with wide eyes to convey that he thought Mickey was crazy. Ian rolled her eyes in response and sped up to catch up with the group. She stayed back from Mickey, chatted with Mandy, but kept her eyes on her girlfriend’s back.

            Despite Lip, it was going to be a good day.

 

Mickey met her under the bleachers at lunch. She only came to school to get out of her house, otherwise she would have ditched the place ages ago. She was still a freshman in her classes and the oldest one there to boot. But she came every day to get out of the house, to protect her little sister, and to see Ian.

            Well, Ian guessed the last one was one of her reasons. It was easier to meet in secret at school where they had the cover of hundreds of people rather than at one of their houses where the half a dozen could easily spot them sneaking around.

            Mickey kissed her without a word. She grabbed onto Ian’s red hair and pulled her in tight, kissed her hard until they both lost their breath and pulled away.

            “Sorry,” Mickey said. “Rough day.”

            “What’s wrong?”

            No response. As Ian expected.

            “You doing all right in English?” Ian said. She had been tutoring Mickey when she could make the other girl focus and she had the insane goal that she could make her pass by the end of the semester.

            “Not failing,” Mickey said. She’d lit up, the smoke curling around plump pink lips. She blew it out in a perfect ring and then handed the cigarette to Ian. They’d done this a thousand times before they’d actually kissed and every time they did it now it seemed like a crappy substitute to Ian.

            Ian coughed on the inhale, not paying enough attention, and Mickey sighed.

            “Your brother’s a dick,” Mickey said.

            “What?”

            “He asked Mandy for a threesome. She thinks he was joking.”

            “A threesome? With you?” Ian said.

            Mickey nodded.

            “Fuck. Asshole.”

            “I mean, Mandy will never agree.” Mickey took back the cigarette and breathed in a long drag. The smoke came out her nostrils. “Especially not when it comes to me. But I don’t wanna be around your fucking brother if that’s how he thinks of me.”

            “That’s how he thinks of everyone with boobs,” Ian said. “Don’t take it personally.”

            “I deal with that shit at home. I don’t need it at your place.”

            “I know,” Ian said. She took the cigarette so that Mickey would look at her for a moment, so she could see how far gone those beautiful blue eyes were. And they were gone. They were worried. “Hey,” Ian said. “He would never hurt you, okay? He’s a dick, but he’s not a bad guy all around.”

            “Yeah. Well, I would have said that about a lot of people.”

            Ian licked her lips. “There’s one thing we could do that would stop him, you know.”

            “What?”

            “We could tell my family about us,” Ian said. “Wait, listen. They’ll be fine with it. They’ve known about me for a long time. And I’m not talking about telling the whole world, only my siblings. And once Lip knows you’re off limits, he’ll back off. He’s not into things he can’t get.”

            Mickey huffed. “And why does he think he can get me?”

            Ian shrugged. “He doesn’t see much difference between you and Mandy.”

            “Then let’s show him there’s a difference,” Mickey said. A smile sparkled in her eyes, but didn’t quite reach her lips. It was only when she leaned in to kiss Ian that Ian could sense the smile in the soft curve of her lips.

 

Ian met Mickey out in the backyard. She smiled bright when she saw her, the expression forced through her nerves, and said, “Hey. You ready?”

            Mickey shrugged and dropped the cigarette from between her lips. Stamping it out with the heel of her boot, she said, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

            “Five people, that’s all we’re telling,” Ian said. “You tell Mandy?”

            Mickey nodded.

            “How’d that go?”

            Mickey shrugged. “It went.”

            Ian decided that was the best she was going to get from her girlfriend and turned to lead her back into the house. Mickey wrapped their fingers together on the last step and Ian squeezed once before she opened the door.

            Everyone was sitting at the kitchen table, knee-deep in dinner. Fiona looked up and said, “Hey, Ian. Grab a plate from the counter—” She cut herself off when she saw Mickey and added, “You too, Mick. There’s plenty to go around.”

            Ian looked into the pot of spaghetti on the counter and determined that it probably was enough for two bowls. But when she looked up, Mickey still stood at the door, arms crossed over her chest, defensive.

            Ian cleared her throat. “There’s something we want to tell you,” she said.

            “Go ahead,” Fiona said.

            Ian stepped towards Mickey and took her hand. She kissed the back of it, gave Mickey a comforting look, then said what everyone around the table had already guessed. “We’re dating,” she said. “And we just wanted you to know.”

            Fiona barely blinked. “That’s great,” she said. “Now grab some dinner and sit down.”

            “Take my place,” Lip said, getting up with an empty bowl in his hand. He approached the two of them and landed his palm heavy on Ian’s shoulder. “Congrats, you guys.” Then he headed up the stairs in a clatter.

            Ian looked from Mickey to the relative normality of her family dinner table. She nudged Mickey towards the empty spot, then went to fill their bowls. She came back to the forced conversation – forced mostly because Mickey wouldn’t open her mouth – and tried to fill in the gaps. All in all, it was the best she could have hoped for.

 

Later that night, there was a knock on Ian’s bedroom door. She opened one eye to check that Debbie was still sleeping, then tiptoed over to the door. It wasn’t unusual for Lip to wake her in the middle of the night. They were only a year apart and pretty close. And given the evening’s events, Ian couldn’t say that she wasn’t expecting the knock.

            “Hey,” Lip said. “Did I wake you?”

            “Nah,” Ian said. She pulled the door closed behind her so they wouldn’t wake Debbie. “What’s up?”

            Lip shrugged. “Just wanted to talk. You know. Sibling to sibling.”

            “About Mickey?”

            Lip smirked, his plan ruined by two words from his sister. “That obvious, huh?” he said. “Well, since I’m here anyways, give me the details.”

            “Details?”

            “Tell me what she’s like, what she feels like. Come on, you can’t tell me you haven’t slept with her.”

            “I’m not giving you details,” Ian said, voice sharp. “That’s disgusting.”

            “Come on. If you were my brother, you’d do it.”

            “If I were your brother, I hope I wouldn’t be such a pig,” Ian said.

            “I tell you stuff about Mandy all the time.”

            “I don’t ask for it.”

            “But you enjoy it.”

            Ian shut her mouth around her retort. It wasn’t bad having an image of Mandy, something easy to reach for in the middle of the night. She tried not to, given as she was dating Mickey, but sometimes she felt bad thinking about Mickey that way. Mickey was so damaged and Ian had to be so careful with her. Masturbating to her image, her sounds, the way she moved, didn’t feel careful at all.

            “See?” Lip said. “Now spill.”

            Ian shook her head. “Go buy a dirty magazine about butches if you’re that curious.” She stepped back into her room and slammed the door in his face. It took several deep breaths, ignoring more knocks, and an hour of sleeplessness before she managed to get back to bed. All she could think was that coming out had been a mistake.

 

Mickey started to spend a lot more time around the house. Both the Milkovich girls did. Ian loved having Mickey around, being in a safe place where she could cuddle up next to her or hold her hand. Mickey still lacked the ability to show affection back, but when she did, Ian felt safe and happy.

            However, she wasn’t blind to what went on behind her back.

            She knew that when Mickey walked around the house in her underwear – a habit from home she wouldn’t give up – Lip was looking at her body. Ian knew that Mickey tolerated his looks for the safe space.

            Lip also made comments. Not explicit ones, not when Mandy was around, but he wasn’t above telling Mickey how nice she looked when she was in a bra and jeans. He would ask about the noises that came from Ian’s room when Debbie wasn’t home. He asked Mickey to flash him once and got punched in the face for it.

            Ian couldn’t tell if Mandy was oblivious or just used to not taking care of herself. Ian knew everything Mickey had done to keep Mandy safe – from running around her house naked, to taking her father’s rage and blackouts, to keeping the family business mostly away from her – and she couldn’t help but wonder if that had made someone just a little too soft for the Southside’s dangers.

            Mickey didn’t mention it to Ian, so Ian didn’t mention it to Mickey. That was how their relationship worked, a pact of silence around the hardest parts of their lives. And maybe it wasn’t healthy, maybe it made Ian worry more than was necessary, but she knew it was all that Mickey could manage.

            One day, after a particularly bad encounter that involved Mickey getting out of the shower without a towel and Lip watching her make her way to Ian’s room, Ian snapped. Maybe her girlfriend made no big deal about it, but it bothered her.

            So she cornered Lip in the kitchen and said, “We need to talk.”

            “Talk,” Lip said. He was staring at the microwave, waiting for it to count down.

            “I need you to stop being an asshole to Mickey,” Ian said. “She’s not here for your entertainment or for you to look at. She’s here for me, as my girlfriend, and this house should be a safe space for her like it is for Mandy.”

            Lip rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve never taken a second look at Mandy.”

            “It’s not a second look. You’re staring. You’re leering.”

            “Tell her to cover up a bit then,” Lip said. “I’m only so strong.”

            “Fuck you,” Ian said. She grabbed his shirt and turned him so he looked at her. In one smooth motion, she picked up a knife from the block on the counter and had the tip pressed to his throat. “You wanna know about me and Mick? We’re not pretty little girls from the Southside who have been safe and protected all our lives. We’ve fucked with worse than you. We’ve dealt with worse. You think you’re the only guy in the world who knows we’re dykes? Who makes fun of us for it? You’re not. You think you’re the worst we’ve dealt with? You’re not by _far._ So I suggest you fuck the hell off and leave Mick alone. She’s not some scared little girl you can pressure into being straight for a night.”

            Lip stared at Ian for a second. “And what’s with the knife?”

            “This?” Ian flipped the knife in her hand. It grazed Lip’s neck but did no damage, simply left a pale red line behind. “That’s to remind you that I’m not helpless either. ROTC for the last three years of my life. If you think you’re stronger than me, you’re not. If you think you can beat me in a fight, you’re wrong. If you think I won’t put you down for hitting on my girl, you’re fucked. All right? You’re fucked. That’s what the knife is for.”

            Lip held up his hands in mock surrender. “All right. You win.”

            “And what do I win?”

            “I’ll leave Mick alone.”

            “Which means?”

            “I don’t have to spell it out for you, do I?”

            “I still have a knife,” Ian said.

            Lip almost rolled his eyes, but stopped himself. “I’ll stop leering at her and making gross comments and generally making her feel uncomfortable. She’s welcome in our home. And she should feel safe here.”

            Ian slipped the knife back into the block and took a step back. “Good. That’s all I wanted.”

            “You didn’t need a fucking knife to do it.”

            “You don’t fucking listen,” Ian replied. And she walked away.

 

Weeks passed without incident. Mickey fell into an easy routine at the Gallagher house and rarely went home, unless Mandy went home. Ian could feel her growing happier, smiles more regular on her, and a sense of calm surrounding her where there was usually anger.

            It was one night cuddled in bed when Mickey whispered, “Thank you.”

            “Hmm?” Ian rolled over to face Mickey and laid a sloppy kiss against her cheek. “For what?”

            Mickey pecked her on the lips. “Whatever you did to your brother. I know he didn’t fuck off all on his own.”

            “You threaten a guy with a knife and he gets the hint.” Ian yawned and nuzzled into Mickey’s shoulder. She lay sleepy kisses along her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m always going to be here to protect you.”

            “I don’t need your protection,” Mickey whispered. “But thank you.”


	4. Brooklyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mickey & Ian decide to move somewhere like NYC/somewhere else in Chicago & Ian easily gets a job but Mickey doesn't & she starts doing "housewife" stuff & hates it & starts feeling insecure.

The move to Brooklyn was far from a well thought out idea, but it was an idea they executed all the same. Mickey made sure Mandy was safe, far away from Terry, and then she took Ian and moved to the East coast. Simple.

            Their apartment was a hole-in-the-wall basement bachelor suite with one large room and a bathroom. They had enough money to buy a bed and a table for the kitchen, but no chairs. The whole place was dark and dreary. Bars criss-crossed the windows and the carpet smelled like cat pee.

            In fact, the apartment came with a cat. There was a stray that the old owners must have fed and kept in milk, because it would paw at the door every evening. Mickey was adamant that she hated the thing but she always fed it, let it come in and climb all over their bed and was caught giving it a bath once. She even gave it a name – Douche Face.

            Ian got a job within a week working as a dancer at a strip club. She bartended during the days, danced at night, and spent maybe five hours a day actually in their apartment. Mickey, on the other hand, was there all the time. Night and day she was stuck in the place, other than the few hours she spent on the streets handing out resumes. She knew she could easily get a job with Ian – Ian had suggested it more than once – but the thought of strangers’ eyes on her made her skin crawl. She had moved to New York to _get away from_ stuff like that, not fall right back into it.

            It was within one of the five hour periods that Ian was home that Mickey said, “I’m bored.”

            Ian looked up from the show they were watching. The neighbour had a TV positioned near their window that they could see from their apartment, although the angle was awkward and hurt both their necks. “We can’t exactly change the channel,” Ian said.

            “Not of the show,” Mickey said. “Of everything.”

            “Of us?”

            Mickey rolled her eyes. Leave it to Ian to go worst case scenario as soon as actual words left her mouth. Sometimes she actually did want to talk about things, despite evidence to the contrary. “Life,” Mickey said. “Life here. It’s boring.”

            “Once you get a job it’ll be fine.”

            “But what if I don’t? What if I never get a job? What if this is all there is?”

            Ian looked around the apartment. “You could make it nicer,” she suggested. Then she held out a hand to stop whatever tirade was coming before adding, “I just mean you spend a lot of time in here and it’s not the most cheery place in the world. Clean it up. Buy some flowers. Cook dinner. See what you can like about staying home.”

            Mickey snorted. “Why would I cook dinner when you’re never home for it?”

            Ian leaned over and kissed Mickey on the lips. “I’ll be home for dinner tomorrow, promise.”

            Mickey stared at her girlfriend for a moment, then nodded. “I can do that. All of that.” She leaned forward for another kiss and grabbed on to Ian’s red curls.

 

Mickey went out the next day and bought a bunch of cleaning supplies. She even rented a carpet cleaner and was disgusted with how it went from grey to bright white. She went down on her knees and scrubbed between the tiles of the kitchen floor. Everything shone.

            Then she went out and bought flowers for the table, bought two chairs as well. She saw a couch out by the corner of the street and managed to drag it all the way back to the apartment with no help. Using flashlights and nightlights, she managed to brighten the place up a bit.

            Groceries bought, she went to work on chopping up vegetables for dinner. She had a good two hours before Ian said she’d be home, but Mickey had something special in mind that would take a lot of work. Half an hour in, she got a call on her cell for Ian. She wasn’t going to be able to make it home for dinner.

            Mickey went ahead with her plans anyways. She still had to eat, after all.

            For a while, this became her routine. She went out during the day and spent Ian’s money on whatever she thought they needed for the house – more flowers, more lights, a crappy antenna television, a bowl for their keys – and then made dinner at night, never asking Ian whether or not she’d be home.

            Still, every time she got the call that Ian would be late, that Ian was covering someone else’s shift, that dinner would have to wait, she felt her heart sink a little deeper into her chest. She kissed Ian harder when she came home. She made better meals, took cooking classes. She tried things Ian had always wanted her to try. But none of it could pull Ian away from work.

            Mickey got antsy cooped up in the house all the time. She went for long walks around the neighbourhood, not bothering to avoid the bad parts of town. She’d wander for hours before she headed back to the house to make dinner.

            On one of these days, she came home in time to see Ian approaching the apartment with another woman. She was tall and long and lanky, with gorgeous long brunette hair and the legs of a model. Ian hugged her tight, then kissed her on the cheek.

            Mickey’s hands curled into fists. She had half a mind to go after the bitch and punch her out, but she forced herself to cross the street and enter the apartment after Ian.

            Ian turned around and said, “Oh, I was wondering where you were. I’m home for dinner.”

            “Yeah, you are,” Mickey said. She dropped her keys in the dish she’d bought and walked over to the couch. She slammed down on it and turned on the TV, ignoring Ian hovering in the background.

            “I thought you’d be happy to have me home,” Ian said.

            “Yeah, well.”

            “Mick, what’s up?”

            “What’s up?” Mickey said. She turned around to look at her girlfriend over the couch. “You want to know what’s up? How about the fact that I’ve been making dinner for three weeks and you’ve finally fucking shown up and you think that’s enough? How about the fact that you were just hugging some slut outside? How about the fact that you’re always fucking at work and you’ve just left me in a strange city alone—”

            “You were the one who wanted to move.”

            “I wanted to move _with_ you,” Mickey said. “I wanted to be with _you._ I didn’t want to have to navigate a strange city alone. I never wanted to fucking be alone, Ian.”

            “I didn’t mean to leave you alone.”

            “Well, you did. Didn’t you?”

            “Yeah,” Ian said. She took a step forward, tentative, and reached out a hand. Mickey took it over the top of the couch. Ian squeezed. “But that was never the intention. I just meant... we need the money, Mick.”

            “Because I can’t get a job.”

            “You had to know this would be an issue with your record.”

            Mickey dropped her hand. “Yeah.”

            “I know you’re uncomfortable with the club,” Ian said, “but we could have you working security or even backstage helping girls with their outfits. You don’t have to be on stage or on display. You know I would never ask that of you.”

            “It shouldn’t be asked of you. I don’t want you up there.”

            “Well, that’s not your choice. I like dancing. I like how it makes me feel. And I don’t mind a couple of guys getting a little handsy here and there if there’s someone nearby who can break their fingers for me.” Ian stepped right up to the couch and kissed Mickey on the forehead. “I’d love if you were that person nearby.”

            “I’ll break all their fingers, not just the handsy ones.”

            “Yeah, you would.” Ian kissed her nose, then her lips. “I was just hugging a friend goodbye; you’re welcome to meet her and the other girls any time. Okay? Our lives don’t have to be so separate here.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            “It means you’re the one doing this to us.”

            “You asked me to make this house a home.”

            “And you did that in, what? Four hours?” Ian said. “You don’t have to keep making it a home. You don’t have to keep making dinner when you know I never come home. Come to the club. Buy a burger. Walk me to work. Walk me home from work. I miss you, Mick. I miss you a lot.”

            “I thought you were happy here.”

            Ian shrugged. “I’m happy. I could be happier. I could be with you, always.”

            Mickey almost laughed, then kissed Ian instead. “Okay,” she said.

            “Okay, what?”

            “Okay, I’ll bodyguard at the club or whatever. Keep you safe.”

            Ian kissed her hard, tangled her fingers in Mickey’s short hair. “Good,” she said between kisses, the words vibrating against Mickey’s lips. “Now, tell me, what’s for dinner?”


	5. Artificial Insemination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genderswap prompt: Ian's been bugging Mickey about wanting to have kids but Mickey's like fuck no because Ian wants her to carry it so it doesnt get the bi-polar gene and finally she agrees and they end up paying a lot of money to do it right and Mickey literally makes Ian do everything like even feed her because she's a shithead (bonus: Mickey fucking with everybody and being super badass even though she's the size of a whale and for a time gap to when the kid's like three and an absolute shit)

Ian sat down heavily on the couch next to Mickey in their apartment. She sighed in that way of hers, the way that meant she had something to say, and rolled her neck back against the couch. Mickey looked over, almost uninterested. After all, Dumbest Things on Wheels was on.

            “Mick,” Ian said, her voice soft. She reached out and traced the flower tattoos on Mickey’s right arm. “Can I talk to you about something?”

            “Can it wait twenty minutes?”

            “Commercial break?”

            Mickey nodded, but her stomach curled. She hated it when Ian asked her to “talk about something.” Usually it wasn’t too bad – bills that needed to be paid, a problem she had at work with some guy, maybe an adjustment needed in her meds – but still the request always made Mickey’s blood run cold.

            The commercial break came too soon, too soon for Mickey to make up an excuse, too soon to calm Mickey’s nerves. But she turned to Ian all the same. Ian was lost in the pattern of flowers on her arm, calmly tracing them, and she didn’t look up for a good thirty seconds. That’s when Mickey remembered they had just adjusted her meds and she was still a little loopy.

            “Mick,” Ian started again. She took a deep breath as she looked Mickey in the eyes. “Mick, I want to have a baby.”

            “A baby?”

            “Yeah. I think... I think we’re in the right place.”

            “We’re not even married.”           

            Ian shrugged. “Were we ever gonna get married? I kinda thought that this was it.”

            And this – the apartment, living together, a somewhat comfortable life in downtown Chicago – was it as far as Mickey was concerned. They loved each other and there was no reason to announce that to the world with wedding rings. She still called Ian her wife sometimes to get rowdy diner patrons off her apron. But a baby? She had never considered bringing a baby into their mess, or new lack thereof.

            “I guess,” Mickey said. “But a baby?”

            “I want one,” Ian said. “Please.”

            Mickey couldn’t say no to those beautiful green eyes. She nodded and leaned in to kiss her girlfriend. “We can have a baby,” she said.

            Ian pulled out of the kiss with a smile and said, “One more thing.”

            Mickey glanced back at the TV as the show came back on. “What?”

            “I don’t want to carry it.”

            “We’ll adopt.”

            “Or... you could carry it?”

            Mickey laughed. She looked back over at Ian to see her girlfriend was dead serious. “No. Fuck no. Not happening.”

            “Please! I can’t do it or the baby might get the bipolar gene and I don’t want that.”

            “Adoption,” Mickey repeated. She was firm on the word. “It’s cheaper.”

            “It’s slower. It could be years until we get a baby that way,” Ian said. “A sperm donor is the obvious way to go and you’re the obvious carrier for the baby.”

            Mickey shook her head. “Not going to happen. Nice try, but no cigar.”

            Ian flopped back onto the couch, a pout on her lips, but said nothing more about the topic for the whole night.

 

Two days later, Ian came back to bug Mickey while she was watching TV. She was dressed from head to toe in sequins, ready to go out and start her shift at the strip club in a few hours. She still had her make-up left to do – black lashes, broad strokes of eye shadow, and red lipstick – which always made Mickey feel inferior to her in every way, shape, and form.

            This time, Ian had a stack of papers with her. She lay them out on the table in silence while Mickey watched her show and then sat back. As soon as a commercial came on, she said, “Just look at them.”

            Mickey looked down at the table. “Fuck no,” she said. “I told you no.”

            “Just look,” Ian begged. She grabbed Mickey’s arm to keep her down and picked up one of the papers. “He’s a rocket scientist. An _actual_ rocket scientist.”

            Mickey snorted. “I don’t want my kid looking like that preppy asshole.”

            “Okay,” Ian said. Her grip loosened and she chose another paper. “What about him? He’s an engineer, got a couple tattoos, a little rough around the edges, but I don’t know. I think he’s pretty cute.”

            Mickey stared at the picture for a moment. Whatever it was that Ian saw in the guy, she couldn’t see it. She waved the paper away, and the next one, and the next. Finally, she said, “Look, unless you show me a guy with some actual balls on him, the kind of guy who could survive our old neighbourhood, I’m out.”

            “We’re not in our old neighbourhood anymore,” Ian said. “Look around you. Your kid doesn’t need to have the genes to survive that shithole.”

            Mickey shook her head. “It’s not going to happen. I already told you. No fucking way I’m carrying a baby.” She swiped the papers off of the table and shot Ian her best apologetic look. She knew it was little in the way of comforting. “I’m okay with having a baby, I really am, but I don’t want to be the one who does it, okay?”

            Ian nodded. She knelt down to pick up the papers and then went back to her room to do her make-up. Mickey watched her go, then sighed and fell back against the couch.

 

They were eating dinner in silence. Mickey knew it was her fault, that Ian was mad at her for not wanting to carry a baby, but she didn’t know what she could do about it. She picked at her vegetables and waited for Ian to make the first move.

            Ian was almost finished her dinner when she did. She said, “I know you said no. And by that you meant no more, and that I’m not listening to you.” She slid a piece of paper over the table. “But I think this is who you’re looking for.”

            Mickey looked down at the paper. If she squinted, she could remember the guy somewhat. He’d been at their high school and been something of a tough ass – almost what she would’ve been like had she been a guy. He’d been in and out of school, but gotten good grades and apparently was in college on a scholarship studying Biology. He had the chops, the brains, even the looks.

            Mickey looked up at Ian. “I told you I don’t want to carry a baby.”

            “But why not?”

            “Because! Isn’t that a good enough reason? Not all women want to be baby machines!”

            “I know and I would do it, I would,” Ian said. “But I don’t want my genes mixed up in this. I want a normal, healthy baby that can get through life without dealing with the kind of shit I have to deal with. And I get that you never wanted to carry a baby or have one or do any kind of motherly shit, but I’m asking you to do this as a favour to me.”

            “It’s my body.”

            “I know.”

            “And it’s nine months.”

            “I know.”

            Mickey bit her bottom lip and looked into her girlfriend’s eyes. “You really want this?”

            “I really want this.”

            Mickey took a deep breath and looked back down at the paper in front of her. He was perfect. She and him would make a beautiful, perfectly healthy, pretty smart baby. And it was what Ian wanted. “Then yes,” Mickey said. “I’ll do it.”

            Ian squealed and reached over the table to hug Mickey, unaware she was dragging her elbows through all the food.

 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Ian said.

            Mickey looked over at her with an incredulous expression. It was at least the eighth time she’d repeated the words and Mickey would be annoyed if it wasn’t for the fact that Ian was squeezing her hand so hard. They’d been through all the odds with the doctor. It might not take. It might take several tries. They didn’t know. And the whole idea that it might not work had made Ian nervous because they simply didn’t have the money to do the insemination again.

            They went through the painful procedure together and then made it home with Ian reciting how much time until they could take a pregnancy test like a broken record. Mickey had half a mind to ask about her meds, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment. So she let Ian go on and on and on once they were home. She even let Ian make her sit with her legs up.

            And when it came time to take the pregnancy test, Mickey peed on all four sticks that Ian gave her. Then they sat in tense silence – what felt like the first silence of the day – until two minutes were up.

            All four were positive.

 

Mickey woke up and promptly threw up over the side of the bed. Vomit dripped down the bed frame and Mickey groaned at the thought of cleaning it out of the carpet. At least she’d missed the sheets.

            She turned over and elbowed Ian in the ribs. “Ian,” she said. “Ian, wake up.”

            Ian grumbled and turned over to face her, one eye open to the very early morning. “What?”

            “I threw up.”

            Ian whimpered then rolled out of bed. She stumbled to the other side, stared at the mess for a moment, and then exited the room. She came back with paper towels and a carpet cleaner. Getting down on her knees, she said, “Get to the bathroom. It’ll probably come in waves.”

            Mickey could already feel the nausea rearing up again. She pursed her lips tight, stepped over the mess, and went straight to the bathroom. She barely made it to the toilet bowl. Then she leaned back against the wall and put her head between her knees.

            Ian came in three vomiting sessions later. She ran her hand through Mickey’s short hair and down the back of her neck. “I love you,” Ian whispered. “You know that, right?”

            “I hate you,” Mickey grumbled. She’d given up on the wall and now laid flat against the toilet seat. “You did this to me. I hate you.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            Mickey reached blindly for Ian’s hand and squeezed it when she caught it. She brought the back to her face and kissed it. Then promptly puked on it.

            “Sorry,” Mickey said.

            “Sure you are,” Ian replied with half a laugh. The water ran while she washed her hands.

            They stayed there until Mickey’s morning alarm went off. Then Ian helped her clean up and get ready for her day at work.

 

Ian plopped down next to Mickey on the couch. She handed her a bowl of soup. Mickey simply stared at it, then at Ian.

            “What?” Ian said.

            “You balanced the soup on my belly.”

            The slightest smirk reached Ian’s face, but she swallowed it as quickly as possible. “So?”

            “You know, you’re the reason I’m in this mess,” Mickey said. She handed the soup back to Ian. “I think you should feed me.”

            “Feed you?” Ian said. “Fuck off.”

            “Four more months of pregnancy shit to go and it’s all for you, so your baby could be born with perfect genes” – Ian coughed hard on a laugh – “and I want respect. And benefits. One of those benefits being not having to feed myself.”

            Ian almost died laughing, but she managed a nod. Slowly, she brought the spoon up to Mickey’s lips and started to feed her. Several minutes in, she spilled a spoonful down Mickey’s stomach and then bent down to lick it off.

            “Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?” Mickey said. She kissed the top of her girlfriend’s head.

            “You’re sexy pregnant,” Ian mumbled. Her lips made their way down to Mickey’s belly and she kissed her protruding belly button. “You’re always sexy.”

            “You’ll spill more soup,” Mickey said. She pushed her girlfriend upright and opened her mouth.

            With a sigh, Ian went back to feeding her.

 

Eight and a half months in, Mickey walked into the Alibi for her shift. Kev had said she could take off early – there was no need to have a massively pregnant bartender – but Mickey needed the cash. So she spent her shift behind the bar rather boredly, slinging beers to the regular customers, and flipping the bird to anyone who made a comment on her size. She knew the baby was huge. And she knew it would hurt like a bitch.

            Which is why she was glad when she finally had a distraction.

            She heard one of her girls yelling from upstairs and ambled up to check on them. On the way, she grabbed the bat off the wall. Then she stepped onto the top floor and scanned for the curtain where the commotion was coming from.

            She pulled back the curtain and raised the bat. The whore was yelling furiously in Russian, holding a hand to her cheek, and the man looked ready to slap her again.

            “Hey!” Mickey yelled. She tapped the bat against the curtain rod and the whole structure rumbled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing hitting my girls?”

            The man took one look at her and laughed. “You’re going to stop me?”

            “I look like I’m kidding here?”

            “Yes.”

            Mickey swung the bat at the guy’s knees and he went down, hard. He screamed. Mickey hit him again in the ribs and then raised the bat again. “Next hit is your head,” she said. “Unless you promise not to touch any of my girls again and not come back.”

            “I promise, promise,” the man said, weeping.

            “Good,” Mickey said. She let the bat fall to her side and started back to the staircase. As she went down, Kev started up. As she passed him, she placed the bat back on the wall and said, “Don’t worry. I took care of it.”

 

Mickey woke up to a wet spot on the bed. She cursed, thinking she’d peed herself (again), but then realized the acrid scent wasn’t in the air. What had woken her up was a pressure in her stomach. Quickly, she checked the time. She remembered something about time and contractions from her birthing class, but not much else.

            “Ian,” she said. She nudged her in the back. Ian mumbled and rolled over. “Ian, it’s happening. Get up.”

            Ian shot up in bed. Whipping her curls out of her face, she slipped from the bed and grabbed their go-bag. Then she walked over to help Mickey out of bed. They made their way to the car they had borrowed from Mickey’s brothers and Ian started to drive. Mickey tried to remember to breathe.

            “How far apart are the contractions?” Ian asked.

            “Four – three minutes,” Mickey managed.

            “Okay, we have time then,” Ian said, somewhat to herself, somewhat hysterical. “We have plenty of time.”

            They made it to the hospital and into a room with one other woman. She tried to talk to them along with her husband, but Mickey ignored them both. Ian made polite excuses and coached Mickey through contraction after contraction. Hours passed. Nurses kept giving them the dilation in centimetres. Not that Mickey knew what the fuck centimetres were. Or dilation.

            “You’ve got to get to ten,” Ian said after a nurse left with the number eight.

            “Two more,” Mickey mumbled. She was sweating with the pain of the contractions, begging for more drugs, but they wouldn’t give them to her.

            Ian went away for a bit and came back with another nurse. Or maybe it was a doctor. The white coat gave that away. “Should she be in this much pain?” Ian asked. She glanced between Mickey and the doctor, as if what she was saying at a perfectly normal volume should be a secret to one of them. “I’m worried. For her and the baby.”

            The doctor nodded, but her expression was neutral. She smacked on a rubber glove and said, “Let me just check a few things. How good were you two about regular check-ups?”

            They exchanged a glance. Ian said, “Not great.”

            An ultrasound was brought in at nine centimetres. “If you look here,” the nurse said, “you can see that your baby is positioned upside down in the birth cannel.”

            “What does that mean?” Ian said.

            “It means we’ll have to perform an emergency C-section,” the doctor replied. “It’s a procedure that gets done all the time and shouldn’t add any complications.”

            “Shouldn’t?”

            “There’s always a risk to the mother and the baby with this type of procedure, but it’s my opinion that not doing it will be a greater risk. Without the C-section, your baby will suffocate and there’s no telling what could happen to Mickey herself.”

            Mickey exchanged a glance with Ian. “Do it,” she said.

            They got ready for the C-section. Mickey was moved into a surgery room and covered with blue plastic. Ian was put into a surgical gown and gloves and a mask. She barely looked like herself when she came to stand by Mickey’s side. They clasped hands.

            “I’m sorry,” Mickey said. “I’m already fucking this kid up.”

            “It’s not your fault,” Ian said.

            “I’m going to be a terrible mother. I had no role model, I don’t know what I’m doing, and now I’m not even carrying the baby the right way around.”

            “Hey, that’s the hormones talking.” Ian squeezed her hand tighter. Their eyes met and Ian forced a smile. “You’re going to be a great mother. And this C-section is going to go incredible and in a couple of hours we’ll be a happy little family, okay? And in a couple years, you’ll want more kids, and eventually we’ll have more children then both our families combined.”

            Mickey laughed. “You know we only have so many siblings because of shitty birth control, right?”

            “Lesbianism is the best form of birth control,” Ian agreed.

            Mickey laughed again and she forced the smile to stay on her face as the doctors told her that they were ready to go. She intertwined her fingers with Ian and did something she’d never done before in her life – she prayed.

 

Three years later...

            Mickey lifted up her feet as Abigail ran by, thumb in her mouth, butt naked. Abigail shouted, “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” as Ian ran after her with a towel.

            “A little help?” Ian asked.

            Mickey smiled, big and bright. She popped a grape lollipop out of her mouth. “Who’s she really hurting?”

            “How about the neighbours’ ears?”

            Mickey shrugged.

            Ian sighed and flopped down on the couch. Her eyes followed Abigail throughout the apartment as she ran, her shouts getting progressively louder. “You know,” Ian said, “you’re the reason she’s like this.”

            “You wanted to use my genes.”

            “Yeah, remind me I changed my mind about that next time.”

            “Next time?”

            Ian leaned over and kissed Mickey, a smile on both their lips. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it.”

            “Me too,” Mickey said. She kissed Ian back, then took the towel from her and ran after Abigail before she could go down the fire escape.


End file.
